


Relieve

by keysmash



Series: GENS 101 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s2e13 Houses of the Holy, F/M, Genderfuck, Masturbation, Other, Pre-Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-17
Updated: 2010-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keysmash/pseuds/keysmash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To excuse, relieve (or: an amenity).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relieve

**Author's Note:**

> Written for prompt 11, excuse, of my [Nanoshots table](http://latentfunction.livejournal.com/412560.html) for [spn_30snapshots](community.livejournal.com/spn_30snapshots). A [Sweetheart, this ain't gender studies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/110275) timestamp. Set during Houses of the Holy.

The bed stopped, falling still under her again, and Dean sighed, stretching her arms over her head. It was a little after noon, and the motel's TV wasn't as good as its bed. There wasn't any cable, and the only things on were soap operas and talk shows — both of which Dean could enjoy, if she had a week to get into the habit of watching, but she didn't know any of the soap's plot points, and she was having a hard time caring about other people's overblown problems right now.

It was dark in the room, with the blinds pulled shut, and the TV playing muted infomercials on the other side of the room cast blue light across the furniture. Dean rolled onto her belly and poked at the pile of quarters on the bedside table, counting it. Three-fifty left, and she had a ten dollar bill in her wallet that she could feed into the change machine in the motel's laundry room, too. This wasn't exactly the type of motel where people ran to the cops first, and she didn't care what Sam said: it wouldn't be a big deal to go outside for a few minutes, to have food delivered and open the door herself.

But three-fifty would last her a while, and he had to come back to the room eventually. If he was so set on keeping her locked up for this job, then he could run all her errands. Dean fed another quarter into the coin slot and settled on her back again, letting her eyes fall most of the way closed as the bed shook and vibrated underneath her.

She'd go buy some hair dye in a day or two, if Sam hadn't wrapped up the first part of the job and moved onto the things it was safe for her to do, but right now, Dean had to entertain herself. She pushed fifty cents more into the machine and glanced at the door before pushing her hand into her sweats, resting her fingertips on the waistband of her panties. She and Sam had been locked up together for too long, since the fuck-up at the bank, and even now, when he was out chasing leads, there was so much of him in the room that Dean couldn't stop thinking about it. She ran her thumb over her skin, just above the line of elastic, and closed her eyes, trying to imagine it was Sam.

Pointless, really; his fingers had been bigger than hers for years, and there wasn't any convincing herself Sam's hands were actually on her body. That never worked unless she was trashed, just barely to the point of passing out, and she hadn't been that drunk since he'd come back to her. He'd come back, and the last thing she wanted to do was give him a reason to leave again. But it was easy enough to tease, with the bed shaking underneath her, and Dean crossed her ankles and locked her knees in place next to each other, so that her thighs pressed together. She arched her back a little and closed her eyes again, then pushed her hand further down so she could brush her fingers over her cunt, through her panties, before spreading her legs tugging the crotch to the side.

She rubbed one finger between her lips, dipping inside barely to her first knuckle, and let out a shaky breath; it was a lighter touch than she usually started with, but the vibrations of the bed made it seem so much more intense, and she couldn't tease nearly as long as she usually could. She pushed the finger inside herself, arching her hips into it and thrusting a few times, then pulled out and added another finger. They were very clearly her own, not Sam's, but she brought her free hand to her mouth and sucked on her index and middle fingers, and thought about showing him, letting him see her touch herself. She planted her heels on the bedspread and imagined doing this in his lap: lying down with her legs sprawled over his, maybe wrapping her thighs around his waist, and touching herself, letting him watch her get herself off, while he held her hips in his giant hands. Dean squeezed her eyes tighter closed and put her other hand in her underwear, too, rubbing at her clit with her damp fingers.

She knew what Sam's cock looked like. They lived together, and she probably would have caught glimpses of it by now even if she didn't want him; they hadn't stayed someplace with more than one bathroom since Sam was in high school, and they only rarely slept in separate rooms these days. She'd only seen him hard once, and he'd covered himself up almost as quickly as she'd left the room then, but even if she hadn't, well. Everything about Sam was big, and she had a good imagination.

But he'd seen her naked, too. He'd stumbled, hungover, into the bathroom to piss while she was in the shower, and he'd stitched up a gash on the back of her thigh, one that'd started near her knee and ended on the roundest part of her ass, and there'd been times when they'd both had to pee by the side of the road, where she'd taken off one boot and one leg of her jeans to squat behind the car, and had still been zipping up when he came back. That wasn't even counting the times they'd bathed together as kids, the times they'd gone skinny dipping just because there wasn't money for bathing suits that year, the times she crawled out of bed and made it all the way to the bathroom before realizing she'd slept in a thong instead of a pair of shorts. If he wanted to imagine her — and Dean tried not to think he was, she _tried_ , but she couldn't be imagining every time he looked at her too long, every time he put his hand in the small of her back like it was normal — well, he could do it, too.

She pushed a third finger into herself, and squirmed around to get her pinky in, too, and pressed at the swollen roughness of her g-spot, wriggling her hips from side to side, until she came. She left her fingers in her body as she calmed down a little, gasping every time she twitched through an aftershock, and then brought them to her mouth, licking them clean like she always did when she was alone. Once she could touch her clit again without wincing, she pushed her clothes down to her knees, and rolled over. The bed was still going underneath her, and Dean spread her legs just enough to get the leverage to thrust down against it, rubbing her clit on the vibrating coverlet.

She'd used up another dollar by the time her phone buzzed with a text from Sam. She bit her lip as she read it: _on my way back, want me to get something to eat?_ — she _couldn't_ be imagining that, he _had_ to know how that would come off. He had to.

 _u no what I like_ , she sent back, because she couldn't help herself, and then pulled her clothes back on. She washed her hands and then splashed water on her hair, trying to get it a little more under control, before going back into the room. She stared at the beds for a moment before pulling the covers off the one she'd just used and leaving them on a pile in the floor. Sam might grouse about it, but nothing else. She could tell him she spilled something, if he asked. Dean found the remote and started flicking through the stations again, then settled on top of the other bed — the bed closest to the door, the bed that was still made, the bed where she was sleeping.


End file.
